


there are roads left

by littledust



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 06:33:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledust/pseuds/littledust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where the Revolution reignites. All of a sudden, Enjolras is far more of an important figure than he'd like to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there are roads left

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evewithanapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evewithanapple/gifts).



> Forgive these terribly earnest revolutionaries their melodrama. :)

They beg him to leave. They tell him that he’s become too important to the cause, that their movement depends on his leadership, that martyrdom will leave too much to chance. Enjolras hears their words without heeding them. He has never wanted what they have made of him. Revolution makes heroes of ordinary people, yet now they treat him as one extraordinary, one apart.

“The people need their stories,” Grantaire says after yet another attempt at persuasion, one Enjolras rebuffs with perhaps more anger than necessary. The news today has been full of loss, and they ask him again to leave.

“I am a man,” Enjolras replies, settling into a chair, fingers playing over the pitted wood in his agitation. He cannot leave the argument at that, though the rest have gone to their beds, or what passes for their beds. “A man serving a cause that will long outlive him, regardless of whether he stands and fights or flees like a coward.”

“Most need faces for their causes,” Grantaire says, dropping to one knee and ducking his head in a mock bow before Enjolras.

Enjolras turns away. He wonders whether he had more hope when it seemed nothing would come of their movement. At least then the people were following their own convictions rather than a mere person, a person with fallibilities like any other. He does not want to leave because his chief devotion is to France, of course, but a selfish piece of his heart lingers on the color of the sky and the laughter of his companions. This place is his home.

“If you leave,” Grantaire says, the tone of his voice so serious Enjolras looks his way again, “I will not follow. I care nothing for this war, but you have won me to your side.” He is still on one knee, but his gaze is level, fixed upon Enjolras. “Do you understand why you must live?”

Enjolras slides off the chair to kneel on the filthy floor as well. He embraces Grantaire with sudden, savage loyalty, then thrusts him away to look into his eyes. He must speak with no less conviction. “If I must live, so must you. We will meet again.”

Grantaire’s smile is slow. “So we shall.”


End file.
